Freak Encounters
by Kiva
Summary: A chance encounter tells two people more about each others' worlds, than they ever wanted to know. Crossover involving an Angel character.


Title: Freak Encounters

Author: Kiva

Date: 8th April '03

Feedback: kiva31yahoo.com

Rating; G

Pairing: None

Category: Challenge response, Crossover.

Status: Finished

Season/Spoilers: Set after 'End Of Innocence' in the Highlander series, and before 'Ground State' in the Angel series... yes, I've screwed a little with time lines. Spoilers in so far as the Immortal Game and Watchers are mentioned where HL is concerned, and spoilers for 'Ground State' in Angel.

Summary: A chance encounter tells two people more about each others' worlds, than they ever wanted to know.  
  
Notes: Written in response to the Bi-Weekly X-over challenge on one of the HL lists. Not Beta'd due to time constraints. Also, one aspect of the challenge isn't mentioned in here; what would happen to the Immie's Quickening. I didn't have time to go into that amount of depth... but perhaps there may be a sequel, provided anyone even likes this.  
  
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Warnings: None. Disclaimer; The characters of Highlander and Angel are not mine, nor do I lay any claims on them. This is for entertainment purposes only, and done in the hopes of shutting the damn bunnies up.  
  
ANGEL:  
  
"What- are you?" GWEN:  
  
"I'm a freak. What'd you think?" GWEN:  
  
"What I don't appreciate, Elliot, is being called a freak! That's my word. And I get cranky when people like you use it."  
-- snippets taken from the Angel episode 'Ground State.'  
  
Joe Dawson sighed, surveying his bar. While the place wasn't crowded, it wasn't empty either, a nice group of patrons that would certainly do his bank balance no harm, but had Joe wishing for a moment to rest.  
  
Of course, he supposed it was better than no business. He watched as another customer transferred from the bar to a table, as the owner himself moved slowly but surely to wipe the counter down with a towel.  
  
He heard the door open and close, the noise levels from outside rising, and then falling as the room was shielded once more. He didn't look up to see his new customer, just carried on wiping, knowing one of his staff would get it.  
  
But when he heard a familiar voice, he gave up his task, moving carefully over to the young man. "I'll take this one," he told the bartender serving Richie, turning to give the young Immortal a smile. "Rich... I thought you'd be goin' out of town for a few days."  
  
Richie Ryan shrugged. "I was... but I met up with someone... had to stick around for a bit."  
  
Dawson nodded. "So, what can I get you?"  
  
"Nothin' for me tonight, Joe," Richie answered, shifting on the stool. "I'm here for business, not pleasure."  
  
Dawson nodded again, understanding the 'business' most likely involved an Immortal. Richie looked alert -- more so than usual -- shifting again on his seat, eyes constantly sweeping the room, despite the fact he would most likely sense an Immortal before he saw one.  
  
Suddenly, he straightened up, his head swivelling to the door.  
  
"An Immortal?" Joe asked.  
  
Ryan slowly shook his head. "No... I don't think so. But... something."  
  
The 'something' he sensed chose that moment to enter the bar, and to the men's surprise, it was a woman.  
  
As she stalked inside, pausing for a moment to survey the room's occupants with her hands on her hips, Richie let out a low whistle of appreciation.  
  
"Oh man," he murmured, watching as the woman stayed by the door, obviously considering a course of action.  
  
She was tall and leggy, with long, wavy brown hair. Richie thought he could see streaks of white and red running through it, clearly not natural, but he didn't mind. Because the rest of her sure looked real enough, and was tightly encased in a pair of black, hip-hugging pants, and a sleeveless red tank top, her midriff proudly on display. The line of her leg drew the eye down, to where she was wearing boots... black, shiny boots, with huge spiked heels. He couldn't tell if the ensemble was leather or rubber, and again, it made no difference to him. It looked good... and so did she.  
  
The woman clearly didn't see who she was looking for, an impatient expression spreading across her perfectly painted features as she raised one shoulder in a shrug, before slinking over to the bar.  
  
She settled herself on a stool, so close her arm nearly brushed Richie's. It drew his attention there, and he noticed what else she was wearing for the first time. Her hands and arms were covered in long gloves, black like her pants, but silky-looking. The strange energy was still emanating from her, making Richie tingle from his head on down, like an all-over itch. Like the Quickening of another Immortal, but... off, somehow.  
  
"I'll take a redcoat, up, double the voddy, " she ordered, looking around at the other patrons. "Oh, and can I have one of those swizzle stick things?"  
  
Her voice was low, rich and sexy. It matched her perfectly, Richie decided, and as Joe moved to get her drink, Richie put on his most winning smile.  
  
"Hi," he greeted. She turned her head to him, her eyes looking him up and down. Although he was only wearing the old jeans and short-sleeved T-shirt he'd thrown on with his leather jacket this morning, Richie seemed to pass her inspection. "Richie Ryan," he introduced himself, heartened by the smile that slowly raised the corners of her full, red lips.  
  
"Gwen," she said back, not offering her surname. Richie didn't mind... last names weren't necessary.  
  
Joe brought over her drink, and she reached for one of her long gloves, pulling it down her arm a little as she probed inside it, drawing out a small wad of bills.  
  
Interesting way to carry money, Richie thought, one hand going out to stop her, though some instinct make him stop just short of touching her.  
  
"Allow me," he said, reaching into his own jacket and retrieving his wallet. Gwen's smile grew.  
  
"Thank you," she purred, her voice even lower now.  
  
Richie handed the money over to Joe without even looking, his eyes still glued to the woman seated next to him as she took the little plastic stick out of her drink, placing it on her lips and slowly licking off the excess drops of moisture.  
  
No, thank you, Richie bit back the urge to say, his own throat swallowing in reflex to her actions. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off as he felt the buzz of another Immortal.  
  
"Damn," he cursed, looking towards the doorway as a man entered, sweeping the bar and focusing on Richie. Here was the 'business' he had told Joe about. The man who had cornered him on his way out of town, challenging him, but being gracious enough to let him pick the 'time and place of his execution.'  
  
He caught the man's eye and nodded, watching as the Immortal left the bar with an ugly smirk, plainly satisfied Ryan would indeed show. Then he turned to Gwen, who had watched the encounter with shrewd eyes.  
  
"Uh... I have to go," he told her, his shoulders shrugging as he tried to smile. "Maybe I'll catch you around sometime."  
  
"I doubt it," Gwen said. "I'm just in town for a spot of business."  
  
Richie raised an eyebrow... her reasons for being in town were startlingly close to the euphemism he had used for his Immortal appointment, and coupled with the strange buzz she seemed to emanate, he wondered what the 'business' was.  
  
"But it was nice meeting you," she continued, her smile widening as she looked him over again, his body fully in view as he stood.  
  
"And you," he replied, wondering if he should shake her hand or kiss her cheek... but still knowing instinctively he should not touch her. It was a strange mixture of want and caution, and Richie decided to heed his gut's warning. He gave her a final nod, catching Dawson's eye as he left, smiling reassuringly at the worried look he was receiving. Then he was outside, disappearing around the alleyway he had arranged to fight in.  
  
Gwen sighed... now there was no entertainment to take her mind off the wait she seemed in for. The bearded bartender raised an eyebrow at her, and she shook her head, indicating she didn't want another drink. Instead, she looked up at the clock on the wall. She knew her client was late. Way past late, in fact... which more than likely meant he was going to be a no-show.  
  
"Oh well," she murmured. "His loss." She had more fish in the sea... like a job that could rake in some major bucks in Los Angeles... some sort of mystical trinket one guy wanted bad... and was willing to pay big for. With a nod to the bartender, she slid off her stool, fixing her gloves before she headed for the door. Opening it, she stepped out into the street beyond, flicking her hair behind her. As she set off, however, noises from the alley behind the building she'd just been in, drew her attention.  
  
She knew she shouldn't get involved... but she'd always been curious as a child, and the trait hadn't faded over time. So she crept forward, trying her best to be covert. Sometimes it was an asset being a thief.  
  
Rounding the corner, Gwen couldn't stop her mouth from falling open. There in the middle of the alley, was the guy from the bar. He was fighting with someone... the man who'd entered the bar and then left straight away, Gwen remembered. She hadn't gotten a good look, but she recognized the shabby denim jacket he was wearing. But that wasn't the most unusual thing about it, however. The strangest thing was their weapons... because they were fighting with swords.  
  
They seemed to know what they were doing, too. Their bodies danced back and forth, arms wielding their blades almost effortlessly. The metal slashed around wildly, scoring hits on the two men, and creating a clashing sound when they met.  
  
"What the hell...?" Gwen muttered, her instinct for self preservation asserting itself finally as she turned to leave. But a shout from one of the fighters secured her attention again.  
  
The shabby-denim guy was on his knees, and Ryan -- if that was his real name -- was standing over him, sword raised.  
  
Ryan muttered something, and Gwen could see what was about to happen, looking away as the sword flashed down in a stroke, cutting off the kneeling man's head.  
  
"Oh my God..." she whispered. What the hell were these two playing at? She wasn't an innocent... she couldn't be, not with her childhood and subsequent professional choices, but... she tried to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and of the non lethal variety. It had looked to her in the bar as if these guys didn't even really know each other... why had Ryan killed him?  
  
Before she could think about it more, a strange sensation swept through her body. She tensed, as if anticipating something... and that was when she noticed it. There was an undercurrent in the air... it felt almost the same as when she used her electrical abilities.  
  
Her gaze was drawn back to Ryan and his victim, and she frowned as a weird mist began to rise from the body.  
  
That was it, she decided. Too freaky... I'm out of here.  
  
She turned away, only managing to take a few steps before Ryan heard the sound of her boot heels.  
  
"What the -- Gwen?" His voice was hoarse, but Gwen could hear the panic in it as he spoke again. "Gwen! Get outta here! Gwe --"  
  
His words were cut off as she picked up speed, not even making another foot before the screams started behind her. Something stopped her and she spun, watching as Ryan started convulsing, the mist having surrounded him, seeming like a cloud as bright lightning bolts emanated from it, blinding her with flashes of light.  
  
Then her survival instinct kicked in once more, and she tried to flee again, ignoring the all-over itch she seemed to have acquired. She only had time for a few colorful curses as the lightning stretched its way from Ryan, winding over to her... then she was lost in a haze of pain, and memories that were not her own.  
  
"You are an Immortal... you cannot die."  
  
Battle. Blood.  
  
"There can be only one."  
  
Death. Power.   
  
The screams were louder now, she thought vaguely. Higher in pitch, and much closer in proximity.  
  
As she came back to herself, Gwen realized the screaming was coming from her. She closed her jaws with some effort, shutting her voice in, and trying to create enough moisture in her mouth to soothe her throat, which was raw from the sounds of the agony she'd just experienced. It took her body a minute to realize that it was over... and as soon as her mind registered the thought, she slumped into a heap, feeling the cold pavement through her clothes, the chill a welcome balm to her heated skin as she panted for breath. But she couldn't stay like this.  
  
Using the wall behind her, she managed to lever herself into a standing position, questioning whether or not her legs were going to support her body. They did, though rather shakily, and she shuddered as the last few shocks ran through her body.  
  
She staggered over to where she'd last seen Ryan, determined to discover what the hell had just happened to her.  
  
She found him by the body, and he was the one kneeling now. His frame was bent over, the sword he held resting on his folded knees as he tried to catch his breath.  
  
"Hey," she said, her voice nothing more than a hoarse croak. "Hey!" she repeated, raising her volume. She got a response this time, as Ryan lifted his head, his eyes unfocused and bleary.  
  
"Gwen?" he asked, his voice barely there.  
  
"Yeah," she nodded, stepping back wearily as Ryan tried to stand. He succeeded, moving towards her. "Hey!" she said again, this time in warning. "Stay the hell where you are." Ripping off one long glove, she held up her bare hand, starting the energy build up she needed to access her power.  
  
But nothing happened.  
  
"What...?" she whispered, focusing on her power.  
  
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Richie asked, a smirk on his face but confusion in his serious eyes.  
  
"What... what have you done to me?" Gwen said, still trying to channel her electricity. It didn't work. "What the hell have you done to me!" It was a scream this time, as she launched a kick at Richie's mid-section.  
  
"Oof!" was all the noise Richie made, as he landed on the ground, trying to catch his breath. What the hell was wrong with this chick? The next thing he knew, he was on his back, Gwen's boot on his neck as the wicked spike heel attached pressed into his throat.  
  
"What... did you do to my power?" she asked slowly, her chest heaving and her voice still low, but no longer sexy. It was furious -- and, he thought, a little scared -- and Richie realized this girl could do him some serious damage. Stuff that might heal thanks to his Immortality, but would be wholly unpleasant to endure.  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he managed to say, resisting the urge to swallow.  
  
"My power... I could burn your insides to a crisp if I wanted to, but thanks to your freaky lightshow, it won't work. What... did you do?"  
  
Freaky lightshow... the Quickening? It had somehow interfered with this 'power' she kept mentioning. Power... but that was impossible... right?  
  
Yeah, nice one, Ryan, he immediately berated himself. Like you're exactly natural, yourself.  
  
"Look... I don't know what power you're talking about. But... if you let me up... I'll tell you what it is you just saw."  
  
She was thinking it over, he could tell... but would she take his offer?  
  
He got his answer when the pressure lessened, and Gwen slowly removed her foot.  
  
"Fine... but if you try anything... well, let's just say that I don't need my power to maim you."  
  
Looking at the anger he could see in her eyes, Richie didn't doubt that for a second. He indicated the bar they had just left, raising an eyebrow. She risked a quick glance that way too, before jerking her head, indicating he should take the lead. He nodded, standing up and moving in front of her, then cautiously walking on. How the hell was he going to get out of this one?  
  
"Wait," she suddenly spoke, causing him to pause, turning his head but not his body.  
  
"What about... him?" she asked, nodding to the corpse.  
  
"Oh, the clean up crew will take care of it," he answered quickly, watching as her interest grew.  
  
"Okay... well, looks like you can explain that as well," she told him, indicating that he should move again.  
  
"So... you fight to the death," Gwen said sometime later, still trying to make sense of it all. Richie wished her luck... he'd been in the Game since his first death at the age of nineteen, and he still hadn't figured it out.  
  
"Yep," he answered instead. He hadn't told her everything... just that he was an Immortal. That there were more like him and they fought each other, trying to be the ultimate winner of the Prize. And, that there were people who observed their actions, but wanted to keep Immortality a secret, hence the clean up crew. She seemed to be taking it all in, even if she was having a little trouble digesting it all. Which reminded him....  
  
"So what about you?" he asked, sipping on the beer he'd been nursing since they first came back in. He had no intention of getting drunk around an unknown like Gwen, Immortal metabolism or not. "What are you?"  
  
Although he cringed, thinking he could have phrased that better, Gwen didn't seem to take offense.  
  
"Me?" she said instead. "I'm a freak."  
  
Richie's eyebrows shot up. "That -- that's it. You're a freak?"  
  
She smiled, flicking her long hair over her shoulder as she leaned forward in her seat. "Look, all I know, is I have this power... over electricity. I can manipulate it, form it, pretty much the whole deal. I've been able to since I was a kid." Something flashed in her eyes, and she grew sombre for a moment, before shaking whatever it was off. "Hell, maybe I was born with it... I don't remember. I can control it... to an extent."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means... I can call it up whenever I want to -- well, I could until your Quickening screwed it up -- but I can't ever fully switch it off."  
  
"That's why you wear gloves," Richie guessed.  
  
"Yep," she confirmed, one hand going to tug on the others' glove. "Otherwise... zap!"  
  
As she mimicked her power working, a small bolt of electricity flashed on her gloved hand.  
  
"Whoa!" Richie burst out, sitting up straight in his seat as Gwen let out a relieved laugh.  
  
"It's back," she smiled, catching herself and shooting a look up at Richie through her long lashes. "I know it's weird... I mean, this has been responsible for a lot of crap in my life... but without it I felt...."  
  
"Like half of you was missing?" Richie finished for her, smiling at her startled look. "It's probably what I'd feel if I lost my Immortality tomorrow. Despite it being responsible for a lot of crap."  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, before Gwen spoke again.  
  
"So you're Immortal," she said, the corners of her painted mouth twitching. "I guess that's just a fancy way of sayin' you're a freak, too."  
  
Richie thought it over, matching Gwen's expression. "I guess it is," he answered slowly, taking another mouthful of his beer.  
  
Gwen just raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, standing gracefully from her seat. "Well, I have a little business down in L.A," she announced. "Unfortunately, while weird in the extreme, I think the local populace is comprised of a bunch of norms."  
  
Then she bent down, her mouth close to Richie's ear. "But who knows... maybe I'll see you around one day... freak." She said the last word with relish, slowly straightening up, and then walking out of the bar with an extra swing in her hips.  
  
Richie watched her leave, a smile on his face... and to think, all this time he'd thought his Immortality a curse... but maybe being a freak really wasn't so bad, after all.  
  
The End.


End file.
